2013-11-30 - SDR: Goth Music Showdown
Warehouse in Brooklyn. Underground Goth Night. This place wasn't built for the kind of party that's being thrown, but between the rumors that Jonothon Starsmore would be playing-- and, deep rumor says, singing-- and that local goth band 'The Dark Speech' would be playing... well. It's like every underage (and a few of age) gothling in the region had shown up. Raptor--Adam-- stood up on a stack of wooden boxes that had been pushed aside, the city lights coming in from the high windows backlighting him. He wore a purple shirt, a long black trenchcoat, his hair in purple spikes, his hands covered in black leather half-gloves. His crew-- Chris, Eileen, Clara, Neil, and Evan-- were also perched up on the boxes, though not on the top one like Adam was. He surveys the crowd like a bird of prey, his backpack at his feet. Conrad and Ace were gone, hadn't been seen in days. Rumors said they'd been taken by SHIELD. SHIELD. Adam's fist clenches. Bunch of crazy murderers, as far as he is concerned. They are /the Man/, responsible for the disappearances of mutants and supes all over-- probably killing them. Conrad was Evan's older brother, and Ace had been Evan's best friend. Both probably dead now. He is there to enjoy the evening, but he is also security. He bumps his backpack with his foot, the flap falling over, exposing his hand crossbow, already loaded. He glances down at Chris, fresh from his own scare. He gives Wanderer--Eileen-- a brief smile, which she returns. She looks like Wednesday Addams-- thin, younger than her years, dyed black hair that hangs to her waist. The stage had been built from a few of the crates and boxes hanging around the warehouse. It wasn't the greatest, but the sound equipment had been set up, and the first band was tuning up. A couple hundred young kids were talking, dancing, drinking... and doing a variety of drugs. The pungent smell of marijuana was definitely floating in the room. Another reason for Adam's vigilence. Julian Keller has avoided the marijuana and anything else of the like. He's over near Adam's "crew" mostly just hanging out. He's dressed in all black, but has eschewed the makeup and spiky hair and the like. Different enough to stand out in his too-clean-cut way, but just enough effort to not seem out-of-place. Of course, the fact that he carries himself like he totally belongs wherever he is just at the moment kinda helps. He's leaning up against a wall just to the side of the piled wooden boxes, grinning as he watches the crowd. It's a deceptive grin though...he's actually considerably more alert than he lets on. Several years of partying actually can give you a petty good read on people, and Adam's looking like he's in a stew, that's for sure. Jonothon was back-stage, looking over the night's set. His facial covering was tight, and designed to look like a rictus grin. He'd recently applied his corpse make-up, and his hair was a wild, upward-rising mess with a bit of white spray along the sides to give a sort of Bride of Frankenstein look. His fingerless gloves had metal studs. His boots were enormous, the soles thick and putting him at just over six feet in height. His jacket was lined on the shoulders and sleeves with a thick stripe of something clear. The material of his jacket was fire-retardant, but it was fuel on the shoulders and arms. Why? So they could come alight and he could play while aflame, Rammstein-style. His guitar, a vicious-looking Pagan Flatliner, was tuned and ready to go. Here it is, in full glory: http://www.edroman.com/guitars/abstract/images/paganblack.jpg But the best part was the little thing he had hidden under his gorget (a big, thick thing, menacing to be sure) - a device given by a friend capable of transposing his telepathy into audio. And he's learned to project his 'voice' in fun ways, to boot. Clara-- blonde, dressed in fishnet stockings, a fishnet top underneath a midriff-baring halter top, and a extremely short leather skirt paired with knee-high boots-- leans against Julian, grinning. It's obvious she finds him hot, and she's not bothering even being slightly subtle. Chris doesn't even look like he notices or cares... he sits on the edge of a wooden crate pensively, his legs hanging off and occasionally kicking the box. Neil, who is roughly the height of a basketball player paired witht he solid muscular girth of a football lineman, scratches his dyed black spikes, the dye job somewhat ridiculous with his almost white-blonde eyebrows. "Starsmore, eh?" Neil rumbles. "Gonna be nice." Eileen nods absently, then swings herself up to the top box with Adam, sliding her arms around him. He smirks a bit, wrapping one arm around her, then commenting down, "Yeah. He's pretty amazing. Wonder what he's gonna play tonight?" Jono went over his set a few more times. In the back, he vocalized a little through his neat little device. His cheeks moved from under his facial covering in what could only be a smile, or as much of one as he could muster. "This is gonna be either great, or a bloody mess," he told himself. Chris looks over at Julian. "...so, you're a mutant?" he finally asks. "I mean, it's cool. Eileen is. So was..." he stops. "Well, yeah. I mean, we're cool with mutants, man." Clara's eyes light up even more. "/Really/?" she asks, fake fangs gleaming as she speaks. "Mutants are /hot/." Her fingertips trace down Julian's chest teasingly. Evan snorts. Of all of them, he's been the most withdrawn. "Yeah. That's why you always fuckin' ignored Ace." There is a slight awkward silence in the group, then Adam clears his throat. "Hey, look guys. Show's starting." And so it is. The low thrum of the bass begins, followed by a scream of guitar, and the singer from The Dark Speech steps up, his voice a low, hellish rumble as he begins to sing. Chris finally notices the cute little girl (well, since Julian is pointing her out), and flushes dark red. He slides off the box, landing lightly on his feet-- too lightly, it almost seems, for a spoiled rich kid. He swallows, making his way to her, and begins chatting her up. "Yeah, I'm a mutant." No point hiding it, since it's all over Youtube now. Julian wasn't exactly secretive about it beforehand anyway. He grins at Clara, giving her a wink, before turning his attention towards the band as they take the stage. "Gotta say, babe...this kinda music usually isn't my scene, but these guys aren't bad at all." He leans over to speak into Clara's ear as they start up. It was a while, but the first set was done. The Dark Speech put on a great show. The stage went dark as hands and folks broke down the first act and prepared for the second. Stands and mics were put up - nothing too fancy, this was an underground concert. Tonight, Jono was going to do a bunch of covers. A musician he knew was on keyboards. He had a bassist, and a drummer. Each of them could provide backing vocals or extra synth on his already-synthetic voice. The stage was dark, but the places were set. The band was ready. A heavy guitar riff and a bit of a beat from the drummer, before the mic light up with a shriek from Jono, and he didn't sing as much as croak in a vicious metal voice: 'I cannot take the take, Your condition was nod awake, A selfish cryer, boldface liar, Robbing all of what you could take in! The song in particular? Pantera's "Living Through Me (Hell's Wrath)": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BH-hS8YiFxM Clara licks her lips lightly, grinning at Julian and tilting her head slightly away, exposing her neck to him. "Well, maybe it can /become/ your scene..." she murmurs. She spends the entire set from the Dark Speech nuzzling Julian, but when Starsmore takes the stage, she pulls away a bit to openly ogle the man on stage. Chris seems to be making headway with his girl, who has dragged him off behind a stack of crates. Adam keeps a watchful eye on the crowd, Eileen sitting beside him, a hand rifling through his backpack. Julian certainly doesn't seem to mind having a cute fishnet-wearing blonde hanging off of him. Though he doesn't begrudge Jono his moment in the spotlight. Seriously...he's the rockstar tonight! He'll have to congratulate him later, if he gets the chance. So when Clara breaks off, he just grins and folds his arms across his chest, looking around once more. He notices Adam rifling in his bag, but doesn't let that smile fade any, nor let his gaze linger too long. Lights came on, strobes, stage lights, in sequence with the song and tone. It's funny that Hell's Wrath was actually a song condemning the effects of how heroin ruins lives. A few more songs were done, the latest of which was a synth-and-bass-ridden piece. Lots of Jono's actual singing voice was projected in certain, synthesized ways, twisted and very darkwave. The coolest part? How he moved across the stage, guitar in his hands, the mic always nearby. And a spark set his sleeves and shoulders alight, a cascade of flame making him all the more imposing as he, quite frankly, dominated the stage. The song? Skinny Puppy's "Hardset Head": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Iz0KZI9bYHA Clara looks thrilled and practically swoons as Jono is lit aflame. Adam's head jerks up suddenly, and he snaps, "Guys, there's people outsi--" Bullets fly. Voices speaking Russian can be heard outside, shouting to each other over the automatic fire ripping through the metal shell of the building into the mob of mostly underage kids. Above the bulletstorm, Raptor drops his trenchcoat, revealing that his arms covered with crossbow bolts in tight-fitting sleeves. He snatches his hand crossbow up, leaping from the box to the window. From the area that Chris and the girl had disappeared to, there is a high-pitched shriek of terror and pain. Neil slams a meaty fist into his hand, rumbling loudly for everyone to get down. Pandemonium ensues. "What the -hell-?" Julian exclaims, reaching over to pull Clara back, enveloping them both in a TK-field for the time being while Julian tries to assess the chaos, even as he actually lifts himself and Clara back over towards where Chris got off to so he can see whether the poor guy's all right. Another TK-bubble pops up around Eileen, and a few other Civilians that he can see, particularly if they look like they've fallen to the ground and are in danger of being trampled. But he can only keep up so many while still protecting himself (and Clara), so he's forced to grit his teeth as the chaos continues. He already knows he's going to have to shift tactics to save the most lives, but that natural instinct to look out for the folks you sort-of-know is still strong. Jonothon felt something weird. And he looked like he was burning from the chest. Three holes - three more out of his back. Bits of orange light licked from them. He looked down, eyes a little wide. Then he looked out again. He dove for cover, reaching out too try to tug the curtains over the rest of the band to give them concealment, if not real safety, even as his biokinetic energy leaked out from the holes in his shirt. How many combatants were there? And could Jono subdue them harmlessly? "Come on, guys! Mobilize!" Raptor snarls from the window, kicking out a pane of glass and firing his crossbow at one of the mobsters in tracksuits. Eileen grabs Adam's bag, slinging it on her back and leaping to another stack of boxes. Neil grabs a nearby piece of unused metal piping, slamming it into his hand and looking furious. Chris's body is covering the girl he went back with protectively, but he's been shot at least once. Still, he keeps himself between her and the bullets. Clara pushes at Julian. "Drop me! I've gotta help get people out of here!" she exclaims, spitting out the fangs. Evan leaps to his feet, rolling out of the way and grabbing a flat piece of metal from the floor. "Wanderer! Tape!" and she responds quickly, pulling a roll of ducttape out of Adam's bag and throwing it down to him. Evan duct tapes the metal sheet to his arm and heads for the front door, reaching down to grab a metal pipe. "Gonna draw their fire!" The bullets keep coming, and the ones that have been hit are on the floor, bleeding and wailing... though some aren't moviing at all. The others are pushing and shoving, trying to get to the side door, as far from the bullets as possible. "What?" Julian blinks at Clara, uncomprehendingly, then shifts to set her down upon the ground, "Did you -plan- for this?!?" He keeps his TK field up, then crouches down next to Chris, pulling him and his would-be-girl into it, so he can better assess the young man's injury. Yay for first aid training at the Academy! He does look up though, and direct a TK-bolt at one of the gunmen that he can see, probably breaking a few bones, but it's unlikely he'll be dead. Still, his attention goes back to Chris, "C'mon, Christian...give me a sign here..." It was at this point Jonothon went on the offensive. That rictus grin mask was yanked down, and Jono looked like he was on fire from the neck up. But that fire was... wrong. It wasn't like the flames on his sleeves. It moved slower, more erratic. Jono barreled right for the holed-up wall, even as more bullets came through. Luck would ensure that only the long part of his coat had more holes given into it, maybe one or two more in his empty stomach. Then aluminum of the wall would give a glow of heated metal as streams of yellow-orange energy poured through the bullet holes. The metal gave, bubbling out before it rent asunder, and Chamber stormed out of that big hole he just made, a terrifying mess of fire on his arms and roiling, cyclonic psionic energy twisting and curling about him. That energy seemed to suck inward, before it poured out of the gape in Jono's missing lower jaw and open chest, like so much a dragon's breath, tearing up the street as he tried to hit multiple assailants in a wide arc with enough force to splinter wood - and hopefully make them think twice about shooting up a concert. Christian coughs up blood, looking up at Julian, his pupils already dialating. A sucking noise comes every time he breathes. The girl is weeping, splattered with his blood. One of the Russians goes down to Adam's first bolt. A second goes down to a combination of Hellion's TK punch and Adam's second shot. Three more are taken out by Chamber-- and the two remaining drop their guns and start running for their van. But Evan is there, running up one of the cars out front and leaping off, slamming into one of the running mob guys shield first. He drops, but his friend pulls out a handgun and fires at Evan. The kid's head snaps back as the bullet catches it. "Damn it..." Julian looks around, and not finding much in the way of first-aid equipment nearby, he does the best that he can...but he knows he's gonna need to get people to first aid quickly. He looks up now that the shooting has stopped, trying to assess just how many people are down and which ones look like the actually -can- be treated. Hard to do at a glance, but he's maintaining a level head despite that right now. He's pretty sure this is going to give him a hell of a headache, but he starts lifting those he sees that have fallen, gathering them into one place, but enveloping them so completely that there's absolutely no jostling or harsh movements to exacerbate any injuries they might have. Then he calls out in rather commanding tone, "Clara! Call 911 and tell that Mercy General can expect 14 gunshot trauma victims in about five minutes, with more to follow. Then gather together the folks that are hurt but still on their feet. I'll be back..." And once he's got the seriously injured folks (including Chris) consolidated, he glances skyward and blows a big ol' hole in the roof, then oh-so-carefully begins to lift the victims skyward (along with himself), to fly them out to the hospital he knows is closest. He's gonna have to trust Jono to deal with the remaining goons...and he's as-yet-unaware of Evan's fate outside. Jonothon's eyes blazed the same color as his biokinetic power. < NO!!! > he roared in broad-range telepathy, likely shaking the minds of a few closer to him. A curling stream of energy lanced from his core again, aiming for the man who had just shot Evan, whose murder Jonothon just witnessed. That bright blast hit the Russian's bicep. There was a sickening CRACK and the sound of fabric tearing. When the blast passed off into nothing, the Russian's arm was still attached by a few tendons and strings of muscle, the humerus completely snapped. The pistol was still held in that hand, but the majority of that arm was now useless meat. Chamber's eyes were aflame. It wasn't that they were people killing mutants. They were killing kids. And that set Jono off like nobody's business. He prepared another blast, glaring hatefully at the getaway car. "EVAN!" roars Adam in anguish. He saw his friend take the bullet in the head. He loads his crossbow again, aiming for the mob goon, but Chamber's roar of energy beats the bolt. Perhaps thankfully, none of the others witnessed it-- Clara trying to guide the other attendees out the back, Neil acting as a shield for them and shoving them along, Eileen not at an angle she can see it. Clara hears Julian's orders, and gives him a thumbs up, already pulling her phone out. There was no one left of the men who had decided to shoot up the place. Sirens sound in the distance. Jonothon gave a swift kick to the ribs of the Russian whose arm Jono very nearly severed, before stalking away, trailing his energy behind him. He stepped through the hole he made in the door, before telepathically communicating to Julian, < I'm not sure if I should stay for questioning or make meself scarce, mate. I'm not sure how well the authorities will take to questiong a mutant quite like me. > He stepped to the others, standing outside that TK bubble. He touched the psionic vox-synthesizer, and sighed. "Guys... sorry fer the big reveal. I..." Oh, hell with it. "I'll stay behind. Help yer out. Yer need it." He wanted to mention Newt, but now was definitely not the time. "Up to you, Jono. I'll be back in a few minutes to talk with the police, too." He gives the man a nod, then true to his word, Julian flies the group of wounded folks out over the city...nowhere near his full possible speed, but faster than any ambulance (much less one that hasn't arrived yet), especially since traffic isn't a concern. He land in front of the named hospital's emergency room, holding the TK field until the paramedics can get stretchers out that he can place them on, one-by-one. By the time it's done, his head is pounding, but his nose isn't bleeding yet, at least.